


Weathering the Storm

by jarienn972



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarienn972/pseuds/jarienn972
Summary: Deputy Killian Jones isn’t having a very good day.  There’s a severe thunderstorm forecast and he’s just had the misfortune of trying to assist the wrong driver stopped on a lonely stretch of highway. Now his survival depends on finding help from an unlikely source.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Peering through the windshield at the darkening horizon, Killian's brow furrowed. He was still getting accustomed to driving the Sheriff's vehicle himself and while it wasn't entirely unlike manning the helm of the Jolly Roger, he'd learned that the automobile responded much faster to course adjustments. He was becoming increasingly comfortable driving on dry roads, but he didn't yet have much experience driving on rain-slickened asphalt so he was hoping that the forecast storm would hold off for a tad longer.

With Emma occupied assisting Henry locate the proper attire for some sort of ball called _homecoming,_ Killian had volunteered to take this morning's call on his own. It was a case that seemed innocuous enough on the surface - the now magic-less former Wicked Witch had phoned in a complaint to the station after someone threw a brick through her living room window. Neither she nor her child had been harmed but she was livid and wanted the vandal caught. She was quite vocal that she preferred Emma be the one to respond but after being advised that Emma wasn't available - and several minutes of unsuccessful argument, she resigned to the fact that it would be Killian coming to investigate. There had been two similar attacks in town and he had a pretty good idea who was responsible already but more evidence was always welcome.

So now he found himself driving to the outskirts of town, on his way to Zelena's farmhouse with a thunderstorm looming. At least the weather was keeping the traffic light as most in town chose to stay off of the highway with a severe storm threatening. But it was the very lack of cars on the road that made the vehicle pulled off to the berm stand out so starkly. It wasn't a vehicle he recognized, much newer and sleeker than the majority of the cars in Storybrooke, although he had seen similar ones when Emma had taken him on visits to nearby cities.

He could tell that there was a driver still seated behind the steering wheel and at quick glance, nothing appeared to be amiss. It was possible that the vehicle had broken down, as he'd learned they were prone to do. So, as Deputy Sheriff of this town, the neighborly thing to do was to see if the motorist was in need of assistance. He slowed down after passing the parked car which was facing opposite of his direction, flipped on the lights and made a slightly awkward three point turn in the middle of the road. (There were still a few maneuvers that weren't particularly easy for a man with a hook for a hand.)

He eased his vehicle to the side of the road, stopping a few feet behind the dusty black sedan that displayed New Hampshire license plates. Before exiting the vehicle, he made sure that his badge was properly displayed, clipped to the chest pocket of his hip length leather coat. He also double checked that the little camera mounted on the vehicle's dashboard was recording just as Emma had insisted. She'd had the device installed so that they would have video of every traffic stop, saying that it was for everyone's protection although Killian had scoffed at it. Wasn't like it would be hard to manipulate it with a little magic, but if Emma wanted the camera used, he'd use the bloody camera.

He turned off the cruiser's engine and stepped out into the road, approaching the vehicle cautiously, but trying not to project a threatening air. He was merely offering aid if needed and noted that the driver was already rolling down the window as he neared.

"'Afternoon, mate," Killian greeted the motorist with a welcoming smile. "I'm Deputy Jones with the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department. I noticed you pulled over here and I was wondering if I could be of any assistance?"

The dark haired driver raised his chin to glance up at Killian, or at least Killian thought the man was looking at him. It was impossible to be certain as he couldn't see the driver's eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses, a strange accessory to be wearing in such overcast weather.

"All's good, Deputy," the man replied. "Just had to pull over to try to make a call but it seems cell phone service kinda sucks around here."

"So I've been told," Killian chuckled. "You'll likely get a better signal about three miles or so ahead, on the other side of the county line."

"That's good to know. Thanks." It was a valid reason to be parked here and the driver seemed courteous enough but Killian's keen intuition sensed something was off. His gaze drifted unconsciously past the driver where he caught a glimpse of a map of Maine with a meandering route plotted in yellow highlights, one that avoided all major highways and towns. Something was telling him that this person wasn't the _scenic backroads_ type.

"Well, I'll not waste any more of your time. Enjoy your drive, mate." Killian gave a little nod to the driver as he made a mental note to run the license plate number with the state police as soon as he returned to the cruiser, chastising himself for not doing that in the first place. He barely had time to take a single step back from the sedan before he found himself staring at the muzzle of a pistol trained on him through the car window. The driver had brandished it so rapidly that Killian had no time to draw his own weapon.

He heard the gun go off and time seemed to slow. The bullet struck his right side, entering somewhere around the bottom of his rib cage. The pain didn't hit him immediately as he staggered back a few steps before his legs gave out beneath him and he dropped to the asphalt. He watched the driver lean out of the window and fire a second shot at the cruiser, hitting the front tire and flattening it. By now, a searing heat was spreading through his torso but as he lay there in the middle of the empty highway, Killian noticed that there was a pair of feet visible beneath the car and his ears picked up a second voice shouting.

" _What the hell did you do that for?" the second, deeper voice demanded. "We weren't supposed to draw attention!"_

" _You were the one who had to take a piss," the driver's voice responded defensively as a car door squeaked open and then slammed closed seconds later. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped."_

" _You didn't have to shoot a cop!"_

" _He saw the map...What if he ran the plate?"_

That was the last of the conversation that Killian could make out as the sedan's engine roared to life and the vehicle sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel in its wake.

Clutching his wounded flank, Killian lay unmoving in the road for a few minutes but to him, it felt like hours had passed. _Get moving, Jones_ his head urged but his body was less willing to comply. He practically dragged himself back to the cruiser, using the front bumper to support himself as he managed to raise up to his knees. Beneath his layers of leather, he could already feel the sticky dampness of blood, warm against his skin. He knew he should get to the radio. He should call for help, but who would answer? There was no one at the station to hear his plea and he didn't know if any other law enforcement would get the transmission as Storybrooke wasn't exactly on any regular patrol route.

Maybe he could call Emma? If he could get a signal on that infernal device, maybe she could get to him? She could teleport. He couldn't.

Trying to ignore the increasing pain, he pulled his hand away from the wound, patting his coat pocket for his phone, hoping it was still inside. As he'd become more adept with the technology, Emma had upgraded his phone to a fancier version she'd felt would be simpler to operate one-handed. The new device had proven easier to access features other than what he still referred to as the Emma button, but he was about to rue the change. The new device was covered in a shiny sheet of glass that he'd initially questioned the durability of but he was assured this was typical of newer devices. As he slipped his bloodstained hand into the pocket, his fingertips came in contact with his phone - and the razor sharp edges of the shattered glass screen.

He drew it from his pocket carefully and confirmed the damage. He must have landed on it when he'd fallen. He tried in vain to press the power button, hoping the device would light up but it barely flickered in his hand, leading Killian to quickly realize the dire predicament he was in. He was on his own out here in the middle of nowhere and he needed to think of a plan right now or he'd bleed to death before anyone was likely to find him. His closest option to get assistance was to head to Zelena's farmhouse which was approximately another half a mile up the road. With a flat tire, he couldn't easily drive there and he doubted that he had the strength or the dexterity to change it. Could he feasibly make his way to the witch's home on foot?

Clenching his jaw tightly, he swung his hook up onto the hood of the cruiser, anchoring it into the narrow gap above the headlight. He grimaced and cried out in agony as he pulled himself upright. He rested against the vehicle for a few moments, willing himself to move. _He could make it a half a mile._ _He had to make it,_ he kept telling himself as he pushed away from the car, leaving behind a sizable smear of crimson on the vehicle's white paint.

* * *

Thankful that she'd located the bright blue tarp in the decrepit barn behind the house, Zelena was trying hard to work while ignoring the pleas of her cranky toddler. She currently stood atop a sturdy chair attempting to nail that plastic sheet over the shattered living room window. It was a hasty fix that wouldn't last long, and it had her once again lamenting her lack of magical powers. She had hoped to convince Jones to assist with the temporary repairs by covering the window with a few boards salvaged from the barn - after he finished up with whatever he needed to do to locate the little cretin who'd vandalized her home. It would have been a stronger repair until she could get someone who still possessed magic out here to take care of the glass, but since he hadn't shown up yet and unfortunately, the rain had, she had to wing it.

The plastic wasn't keeping all of the weather out but it was holding up better than she'd anticipated as the wind whipped up out of the west. She'd already tried calling Emma to see where her ne'er do well husband might be but found phone lines down even before the power went out. Cell phones rarely worked out here so she wasn't surprised to see _No Service_ on the device screen. Maybe she should start thinking about moving closer to town…

Before it got too dark inside the house, she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and got a nice, warm fire going. From the kitchen, Robin continued to wail in her play yard but Zelena needed to find more candles and flashlights first. This storm was forecast to be a severe one. The arrival of the thunderclaps and lightning flashes ahead of the rain had the child screeching but the weather was only partially responsible for the child's tantrum. She was also vocally protesting that mum had put her into this restrictive baby prison when she wanted to explore and see why mummy was making so much noise in the other room. She didn't like the play yard and she was going to make sure that everyone within earshot knew it.

"I know you don't like it in there, my little pistachio," an exasperated Zelena called out to her daughter. "Mummy just has to finish up some work and then I promise, we'll go snuggle and I'll read you a story. Does that sound good?" She didn't wait for the child's response as she placed the four candles and two flashlights she'd located onto the kitchen counter then stepped over to the stove and turned on the front burner, thankful that the gas was still working. With one hand, she placed the tea kettle atop the blue flames while her other hand opened the cupboard to her left and retrieved a bright pink sippy cup. "How about I get you some juice while I finish up?"

The mention of juice tempered the toddler's mood momentarily as she intently watched her mother pour a few ounces of white grape juice into the cup and twist the lid onto it. Robin greedily snatched it from her mother's hand, the thunderstorm momentarily forgotten as she swallowed her sweet treat, plopping herself down next to a fluffy stuffed rabbit. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Zelena was about to return to the tea kettle when she heard a thud against her front door. Had something blown into the door or was that a knock? Had that miserable pirate turned deputy finally shown up?

"Is that you, Jones?" she asked loudly as she crossed the room to answer the door. "It's about bloody time you showed up… What's your…" She was going to say _excuse_ but stopped herself mid-utterance as she swung open the door to find her door frame smeared with a mixture of blood and mud and a barely conscious Killian Jones collapsed on her front porch. He was laying face down, head resting on her woven straw welcome mat and clothes dripping wet as though he'd been out in the elements for a while. "What the devil happened to you? Where's your car?" Her eyes quickly scanned the gravel drive that led up to her house but saw no sign of a vehicle and realized she'd not heard a car approaching either.

She lowered herself to one knee in the doorway and took hold of his arm, wanting to help him get up and out of the storm. Her gaze caught sight of the series of puddles on the steps leading up to her door noticing that they were all tinged with reddish swirls.

"Are you injured?" she queried. He groaned what must have been an affirmative as he made a feeble attempt to raise his head, managing to force open one dull blue eye that pleaded for help. "Okay - we've got to get you inside. I have no idea what's happened but even I can't leave you out here in this awful weather. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and Zelena grasped his shoulders, feeling him shaking as if his strength would give out at any moment. "Think you can get to your feet with a little help?"

Killian nodded in response as she stood up, extending her arms towards him. His hand was slick with rainwater and blood as he clasped onto hers, hindering him from getting a secure grasp.

"Let's try something different…," she said as she shifted her position, stooping over and sliding her hands beneath his arms then wrapping her own arms around his upper torso. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" she muttered but at least he understood her actions. He scrambled to get his wobbly legs beneath him and pushed himself upward while she steadied his upper body. He caught his hook on the doorframe, using it to help balance himself once he was standing until she could move next to him, placing an arm around his back to guide him through the opening and over to her solid wood kitchen table. She let him brace against it while she kicked the door closed, the slam drawing a shriek from the startled Robin.

"Hang in there, little one. Mummy's got a bit of an emergency here…" As the tea kettle whistle drowned out the toddler, Zelena turned off the flame beneath it before turning her attention back to the ailing pirate dripping blood and water all over her floor and table. "I'm going to get you over to the sofa where you can lay down but first, we need to get you out of that sopping wet coat. It must weigh a ton with all the water it soaked up." Killian offered little resistance as she slid the heavy, rainwater laden leather off of his right arm and then repeated the process on his left, easing the sleeve over his brace and hook before allowing the coat to drop to the floor. She'd worry about it later.

With the burden of the leather coat now off of his shoulders, he huffed out a little sigh followed by a pained moan while nearly toppling over. Zelena caught him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she let him fall against her. "Okay, Jones - just a few more steps, okay?" She led him slowly, nearly dragging him at times, into the living room to her floral print sofa and let him flop onto it. "Lie down and I'll be right back. I'll get some blankets out of the closet and I have some first aid supplies in the cabinet in the loo…"

"Thank...you…" he stuttered through chattering teeth as she pulled the colorful crocheted afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over his shivering form. She hadn't expected an answer since he could scarcely keep his eyes open so his response caught her off guard.

"You're welcome. Now, just rest a minute." _What the devil am I doing?_ She had this and so many other questions swirling about in her overwhelmed head. _Was she actually trying to save the life of the very same man she'd nearly killed just a few short years ago? And he was really trusting her to do this? Had becoming a mother changed her that much? Had sacrificing her magic helped her earn back her humanity? Okay - maybe not that since she'd kill to get her magic back. Well, that probably wasn't the best choice of words…_

She shook off the barrage of unanswerable questions as she yanked open the linen closet door to collect some necessary items. She gathered up a pillow from the top shelf, two more blankets and a stack of towels and threw them all into an empty laundry basket. Before closing the door, she reached back in and grabbed a handful of washcloths too, then headed into the bathroom to see what first aid supplies she could locate. With Robin now walking, she'd stocked up on bandages and antiseptic but most of what she had on hand was sized for a child so she might have to improvise a bit. She tossed anything that might be useful into the basket with the linens and then hurried back to the living room.

"Alright, Jones - are you still with me?" He mumbled something unintelligible in his semi-conscious state that she took as a _yes._ "Okay, first thing we've got to do is get you out of some of these wet clothes and see where all of this blood is coming from…" He seemed to understand what she meant. His jeans were thoroughly soaked, covered in mud from when he'd fallen while trudging up her driveway and they were plastered to his chilled skin. He'd be able to warm up faster without the dampened clothing in the way. There was nothing gratuitous about it, but it didn't mean that Zelena was going to enjoy this part.

There was no pretense of modesty as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons on his trousers, keeping her eyes squeezed shut the whole time. She tugged the heavy, uncooperative fabric over his hips, praying that the pirate wasn't going commando. It wasn't that she hadn't seen male anatomy before; she just had no desire to see a former enemy's private parts.

Once she'd managed to get the denim pulled down to his knees, she quickly threw the afghan back over his hips before daring to open her eyes. Seeing Captain Hook's bare knees and shins was something she could handle as long as the rest of his lower extremities were covered. She did immediately come to the realization that she'd forgotten a step - she'd neglected to remove his boots. Thankfully for her, even though the black leather boots were as waterlogged as his matching coat, they were only ankle height with elastic sides to make them easier to slip on and off. She barely managed to stifle a giggle as she yanked them off of his feet and uncovered his navy blue socks that had tiny white sailboats printed on them. Novelty socks were not something she would have thought him to sport, but she kept any commentary to herself as she finished removing his jeans and set them aside on the hardwood floor.

Now came the hard part. She had to get a look at the wound.

He flinched and writhed in pain as she began to undo the buttons on his leather waistcoat and the midnight blue shirt beneath. She picked up one of the towels and held it at the ready while she peeled the layers of leather and fabric away. He hissed and then howled in agony as she raised the shirt and pressed the towel to the deep crimson puddle pooling on his abdomen, allowing the cotton to soak up some of the blood before taking a second glance at the hole in his side. She raised the towel slightly so she could see it better - small, but bleeding profusely. _Keep pressure on it_ , her brain reminded her as she held the towel firmly in place and Killian cried out in protest.

"I'm so sorry. I know this has to hurt but we need to slow the bleeding," she insisted. "Is this a bullet wound?" She had limited experience with pistols, preferring fireballs to firearms, but she couldn't think of any other weapon that would have inflicted this sort of wound.

Killian gave a slight nod of his head as his body trembled through another resurgent wave of pain. "Call...Emma…" he begged, words coming out in staccato through tightly clenched teeth.

"I would if I could," she informed him. "The storm knocked out the power and the phone lines. Wouldn't be a problem if I still had magic, but you've got a pathetic waste of a witch here… Anyway, I had already tried calling her earlier when you hadn't shown up. I thought you'd blown me off…"

"Would...be...bad...form...Got...shot…" he explained what had already been obvious.

"I know that now. I have a tendency to think the worst of people, you know?"

He tried to crack a smile but found it hurt too much. "The…bullet…? Did…it… go...through?"

"I hadn't checked that just yet. Think you can roll onto your left side a bit?" He nodded and did his best to shift his weight to his left hip and turn his body towards the rear of the sofa, giving her a clearer view of his back to search for an exit wound. She raised the hem of his shirt higher and located the slightly wider hole where the bullet had passed through his flesh. "I see where it came out," she told him as she picked up another towel to cover the exit point. She sensed a little relief from him at this revelation. "Is that a good thing?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Better than... a chunk of lead… bouncing around… inside my chest," he grimaced, bracing himself for what he had to ask of her next. "Do you… have anything… to disinfect…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence as she answered right away. "I do have antiseptic, but you should know, this is going to sting." He didn't really need the warning. He knew and his breath was already hitching in his throat in anticipation as she picked up the bottle that presumably contained the antiseptic she spoke of. It conveniently had an aerosol sprayer for easier application but there was no amount of preparation that could halt the primal, guttural scream that escaped his lungs the moment the substance came in contact with tender skin. The tidal wave of sensations proved to be more than his weakened body could bear as he allowed himself to succumb to the blissful peace of unconsciousness.

Zelena watched him go limp as the dueling howling of the wind and wailing of her daughter echoed through the farmhouse. She could still hear his labored breathing indicating he was alive but there wasn't much else she could do for him. She did her best to patch up the wounds by covering them with clean folded washcloths that she'd sprayed with the antiseptic solution before securing them in place with strips of cloth tape from her medicine cabinet. She tucked the pillow under his head and layered the two additional blankets over top of him to protect him from the drafts making their way around the blue tarp. She could only keep her fingers crossed that her improvised window covering would hold.

It wasn't perfect but it would have to do until the storm passed, she reminded herself as she gathered up the bloody towels and his dripping wet jeans, placing everything into the laundry basket for now. She kicked the basket off to the side as she stood up and headed to the kitchen to wash up, tossing another log onto the flickering fire as she passed by. Once she'd scrubbed away the blood and dried off, she scooped up her teary-eyed daughter who vocalized her displeasure once more as a flash of lighting and an instant rumble of thunder shook the house. Bouncing the toddler on her hip to ease her sobbing, Zelena stared out of her kitchen window watching the rain pelting against the glass.

This was turning into one very long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few stressful weeks fighting off depression, I finally managed to get my head back in track and delve back into the angsty lives of fictional characters. It's good therapy. Anyway, we left off with Killian passing out in pain on Zelena's sofa. In this chapter, I gave a little background into what Emma was up to before jumping back to the present. The forecast is still very stormy...

"C'mon, kid!" Emma shouted while holding open the front door to the Sheriff's station with her foot as she clung to her pretty much useless umbrella with both hands. She and Henry had gotten caught by the downpour while walking back from the clothing shop several blocks down Main Street from the station. They'd remembered to bring umbrellas with them as heavy rain was forecast but the strong accompanying wind rendered the accessories worthless. Mother and son were both drenched and he hadn't kept up. "Hurry up! Let's get out of this rain and try to dry off."

"I'm coming…," he mumbled as he picked up his pace, hurrying past his mother into the darkened station. Emma followed, waving her hand to magically switch on the squad room lights as she tugged the door closed behind them. "You know, you could have just poofed us over here from the shop so we wouldn't have gotten soaked…" Henry teased.

"Where's the fun in that?" Emma laughed as she closed her wet umbrella and tossed it onto the tile floor to the right of the door, somewhat surprised that Killian hadn't returned from Zelena's place yet.

"Fun?" he scowled as he shook the excess rainwater off his own umbrella before folding it up. He then shed his waterlogged jacket, hanging it on the back of an empty chair to dry out. "Can I go grab a snack from your office?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Dinner will probably be a little late tonight anyway."

"Okay, thanks. You want anything?"

"A cup of coffee to warm my insides," she mused as she shrugged off her saturated crimson leather jacket, draping it on over the back of another unoccupied squad room chair. "And I need to figure out where Killian might be… I can't imagine he's still out at Zelena's place. He left here almost two hours ago."

"That was before this rain started," Henry reminded her. "Maybe he decided to wait out the storm?"

"What? With Zelena? I don't know about that…" Emma leaned over the nearest desk and picked up the handset of the outdated telephone. She pressed a button on the console to open a line but frowned when she heard no dial tone. "Well, phone's out. We really need to work on upgrading the ancient lines around here…. Let's see if I can get a cell signal…" Withdrawing her iPhone from her jeans pocket, she tried Killian's phone first, then Zelena's number, getting a message that both mobile numbers were out of range. "We also clearly need to add another cell tower."

"Is there a way to magically boost the range?" Henry wondered as he returned to the squad room after raiding Emma's snack drawer, crunching a peanut butter granola bar.

"I wish I could. I mean, I suppose I could magically conjure up another cell tower, but there's no guarantee that their phones would even connect to it. It is something that Regina and I do need to discuss. The infrastructure of this town certainly needs some upgrades but magic isn't always the answer. You should know that considering you just spent hours trying on different suits, shirts and shoes when you easily could have had either of your mothers whip up the perfect outfit in a second."

"Point taken," he replied with a shrug. "I suppose that means you aren't going to magically upgrade our router at the house then?"

"Probably not." She shook her head and then chuckled at the sight of the almost sarcastic frown crossing his face. Still grinning, she strolled past her son into the station's break room, pressing the red button atop the coffee maker to get a fresh pot brewing before returning to her office to see if perhaps Killian had left a message on the station's antiquated answering machine. It was yet another on the long list of items in need of replacement. This thing wasn't even digital and no one sold the stupid little cassette tapes anymore. It needed to go to the dumpster as soon as she could find a digital one but for the time being, she'd have to make due. She unfortunately discovered that the machine wasn't flashing any indicator for new messages.

Henry noticed his mother's furrowed brow as she stepped out of her office then paused just outside of the doorframe as a rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Her plan to fetch coffee was momentarily forgotten as she stared blankly at the raindrops pelting the glass.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Henry queried, hoping his blunt question wouldn't be too upsetting.

"A little, I guess," she admitted with a reluctant shrug. "Hopefully, he's somewhere safe or he's at least taking his time driving back to town in these conditions. He's only had his license for a few months and we had a pretty dry summer…"

"If he's still in the car, you could try reaching him on the radio, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could...Why didn't I think of that?" she scolded herself as she ducked back into the office and snatched the microphone from one of the station's other ancient relics - the old citizens band radio. Pressing the button on the side of the microphone, she brought it closer to her mouth. "Killian, are you there? Over." She'd taught her husband some basic radio etiquette in the event that they needed to contact other emergency services but they tended to be a bit more casual when using Storybrooke's local bandwidth. She allowed a few seconds of static awaiting a response before repeating the message but each time, there was nothing but crackling coming through the speaker.

"Guess he isn't in the car," Henry stated.

"Doesn't seem like it." She was trying very hard to remain upbeat for Henry's sake, but her gut was telling her something might not be right. Maybe Killian was driving like the old man he was and chose not to respond to the radio while he was concentrating on the road. Maybe Zelena had offered for him to wait out the storm at the farmhouse, at least until the worst had passed. Cell service at that old house was practically nonexistent…

Mother and son both hopped in surprise as a brilliant flash of lighting and the accompanying thunder clap startled them just as the power blinked off.

"Well, so much for the WiFi," Henry grumbled.

"The generator should kick on in a minute with emergency lights," Emma reminded him. "Let me go check on it…" She was actually happy to see a couple of the overhead spotlights immediately flickering on, indicating that the backup generator was functioning as it should. "Well, there you go."

"Still no WiFi though," the teen lamented. "I'm going to go sit in the break room and try texting Violet…"

"That's fine. Let me fill my coffee mug and I'll get out of your way." She picked up the stainless steel travel mug from her desk, absentmindedly filling it to the brim while her mind wandered elsewhere. There was little more she could do until the weather let up. She entertained the thought of poofing herself to Killian's location but she dismissed the idea, fearful that she'd startle her husband too much and likely cause him to wreck the cruiser.

She knew Killian was smart. He was a seasoned mariner who had centuries of experience weathering storms and he wouldn't do anything reckless. Why was she so worried?

* * *

As much as she tried not to stare, Zelena's gaze kept drifting over to the injured, unplanned houseguest sleeping on her sofa. He wasn't exactly resting easily, his limbs twitching, trembling and even shivering as he fought through intermittent waves of pain. Her drafty living room wasn't helping matters much either, especially after a particularly fierce gust of wind had nearly blown the tarp from the broken window. The covering had remained intact but it was starting to droop, billowing even more as it was pummeled by the storm. If it failed, it was going to be quite difficult to keep the house warm.

Aside from the wind whistling around the tarp and the crackle of the fire, she was grateful for a brief moment of peace. Robin had finally settled while her mother rocked her, her tearful tantrums fading as she gave in to sleep in mere minutes. Zelena dragged the play yard from the kitchen into the warmer living room and lowered the drowsy toddler into it before she collapsed onto her worn velour upholstered wingback chair. She'd hopefully have about an hour of quiet as her child snoozed, thunderstorm temporarily and blissfully forgotten.

She didn't sit still for long though. She soon found herself needing something to busy herself so she decided it was time to take the stained towels and Jones' mud-caked jeans into the bath to try to soak the blood and muck out of them. She dropped the stopper into the drain of her claw foot tub and turned on the faucet before tossing the towels into the basin.

As she watched the water instantly take on a pinkish tint, she found herself oddly transfixed by the crimson swirls. She'd been no stranger to violent outbursts. She'd never denied that she'd killed many in her quest for vengeance against her sister and anyone else she'd felt had wronged her, but then, she'd always had magic to fix her problems for her. She'd been able to wave away whatever impeded her. Not anymore. Now, for some strange reason, the sight of blood filling her bathtub came as a somber, unexpected reminder of all she'd given up and all of the promises that she'd made to her daughter.

She'd always be wicked but she wasn't going to allow darkness to taint her heart any longer. She'd promised Robin that she'd do the right thing - to just be Zelena Mills, not the Wicked Witch anymore. Staring at the blood staining her tub was proof that she was making small but deliberate strides towards righting many wrongs.

She shook off the sting of the memories before adding Jones' blue jeans to the nearly full bathtub, making sure to remove his wallet from his pocket. She was tempted to take a peek inside to see what the pirate was carrying but she resisted the urge, instead shoving the garment beneath the water's surface. Chunks of dirt and gravel sunk to the bottom as she turned off the tap. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing to get the porcelain tub clean again. Maybe she could convince someone with magic to help her with this mess too?

No matter, she thought to herself as she left everything to soak, turning her attention to the sink so she could wash away the lingering blood stains and mud from her hands. After patting them dry, she returned to the living room, checking on her sleeping daughter while her ears perked up at the sound of an anguished moan. A quick glance over to the sofa revealed that her guest was seemingly regaining consciousness. She noticed that his facial features were contorted in obvious discomfort as he pressed his arm tightly into his wounded side. She didn't witness him actually opening his eyes but she definitely heard him gulp down an uneasy breath before yelping in pain as he made a futile attempt to sit up.

"Easy...," she warned, crossing the room swiftly to press his shoulders back down into the pillow. "You don't want to be doing that just yet…"

A weary, disoriented Killian Jones eyed the blurry face that hovered above him with a mix of confusion and suspicion. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear and for recognition to set in but as he regained his coherency, the tension in his limbs relaxed and he sunk back into the cushions.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, eyes blankly scanning the room in search of familiar surroundings. Only the former witch's face was recognizable but he didn't have the foggiest idea why he was looking at her.

"My place," Zelena replied softly. "You showed up at my door over an hour ago, soaking wet with a bloody hole in your side." She gave the briefest synopsis she could to fill in some of the blanks in his memory.

"Is that what that is?" he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed. "Hurts like the bloody dickens…"

"I'm sure it does. I don't have much here that I can get you to help with the pain either. Everything I have on hand is definitely geared toward toddlers."

"'Could use a fifth of rum…" Killian grumbled as he tried to shift his weight to a less painful position.

"Not hardly," she scoffed. "Let me see what I can muster up... Maybe some children's ibuprofen?" She hurried out of his sight for a moment, returning to the bathroom and throwing open her medicine cabinet. Inside, amongst cosmetics and assorted personal items, she located the bottle of pinkish liquid she'd last used when Robin was cutting a new tooth a few weeks back. She squinted trying to read the dosage instructions in the dim light. It was all determined by a child's age and weight. "Let's see...math was never really my strongest subject… How many teaspoons would make up an adult dose if it's one teaspoon for children twenty to thirty pounds? Oh, bloody hell - here! Just open up and take a swig..."

She grasped his bottom jaw and eased his mouth open, bringing the bottle to his lips. In too much pain to argue, Killian raised his head enough to swallow the sickeningly sweet medicine as she poured it onto his tongue. It took nearly all of his strength not to retch it right back up.

"What the devil is that awful concoction?!"

"It's called _bubble gum._ I really haven't the faintest idea what it's supposed to be but Robin seems to tolerate it."

"Bloody poison, that's what it is," he sputtered, cringing and hissing as his movements aggravated his wound. "Damn, that hurts…"

"Sorry. It's the best I can do until I can reach your wife."

"Emma doesn't know?"

"Not yet," she reminded him. "These nasty thunderstorms took out the power and the phones. I'll keep trying though."

"She'll be worried…"

"I'm sure she'll be looking for you if she doesn't hear from us soon. For now, just try to rest, especially while the little one's asleep."

"Thank you…"

Those two words were ones that Zelena still wasn't accustomed to hearing. She almost didn't know how to reply. "You're welcome…," she stammered after a moment of awkward silence that Killian didn't even register. "Rest up now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this story months ago, I had the events all plotted out and honestly planned to finish writing it over the course of a few weeks. Unfortunately, the stresses of real life got in the way and I all but abandoned writing for a while.
> 
> I'm finally getting back to a place where I can form complete, coherent sentences again so I'm getting a few new chapters out. In this chapter, we're picking up from Emma's POV again as she tries to figure out why Killian has yet to return or contact her amidst the severe thunderstorms pounding Storybrooke.

_Was this storm ever going to end?_ Emma found herself wondering as she silently cursed the rain that continued to pelt Main Street. The typically bustling street itself was already looking more akin to a swollen creek than a roadway as the storm drains overflowed. Mini rivers of rainwater gushed along the curbs in search of an outlet while they flowed towards the harbor.

The power had flickered a few times but still wasn't coming back on. She figured there were likely some lines down around town due to the strong wind gusts or maybe even a blown transformer somewhere that overloaded the grid. Anything was possible with the severely outdated infrastructure around here. They really needed to conjure some upgraded utility systems in Storybrooke but no one ever seemed to get around to it.

A thought crossed her mind about the possibility of controlling the weather with her magic before she sighed somberly and closed the blinds covering the station's front window. No use sitting out here watching the rain falling, she thought as she made the short stroll back to her office determined to try reaching Killian, either by phone or over the radio. Maybe it wasn't raining as bad on the other side of town…?

Her backside had barely settled onto her chair when the vibration of her cell phone on the desktop startled her. She spun about and snatched it up in hopes that she'd see her husband's name on the screen. Her excitement immediately diminished when she noticed that it was her father calling instead.

"Hi, Dad," she answered, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. "What's up? Are you staying dry out there on the farm?"

"Very funny…," he groaned over the crackling connection. "We've got more than an inch of water in the barn and a lake where the garden should be, but that's not why I'm calling. Were either of you out patrolling on County Highway 2?"

"Killian was headed out to Zelena's place earlier. Somebody threw a brick through her living room window so he went out to get her statement and see if it might have been related to the recent string of vandalism around town. He left here about two hours or so ago, maybe a little longer… Why do you ask?"

"Because our favorite melodramatic dwarf just stopped by here to say that he drove by the cruiser out there while on his way into town. He said it was parked on the side of the highway and appeared to be running, but he didn't see anyone in it. Of course, we are talking about Leroy so he could have been exaggerating... But since this seemed to have bothered him enough to stop here and tell me about it - although not enough to get out and take an actual look at the cruiser - it got me a little concerned, so I figured I should check with you…" David knew he was rambling but he also noticed Emma's hesitation before replying.

"I've been trying to reach Killian but he hasn't answered. I was actually hoping it was him when you called…"

"You've tried the radio?"

"Of course, I have," she snapped back in frustration, but she tempered her ire before continuing. "I figured he got stuck out at Zelena's. With the power out all over town and the already crappy cell phone service out there, he might not have been able to call…" _But then why would the cruiser be out on the side of the highway running?_ "Did Leroy happen to say how long ago he saw the car?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Maybe ten? Fifteen?" David replied. "Look, I can drive out there and see what's going on if you'd like…"

"No, Dad. I'll go check it out."

"Emma, my truck will handle these flooded roads better than that little Bug of yours."

"I wasn't planning on driving," she informed him as she hurried to collect her still-damp leather jacket. "I'll poof out there and take a look. Hopefully I'll be able to see what's going on but I could still use your help. Could you come here to the station? Henry's here with me waiting out the storm since the station generator at least gives us some lights. He might need a ride home…"

"Why don't I just stay there at the station? I could help field any calls that might come in…"

"Dad…"

"No arguments. I'm volunteering," he insisted.

"Okay, okay… I'll let Henry know you're coming. Thanks for the help."

"That's what family is for. Now get out there and see what's going on with the cruiser and that husband of yours."

David disconnected the call as Emma tugged on her jacket. She pocketed her phone, not particularly keen on going back out into this lousy storm but she had to find out why Leroy saw the cruiser parked on the side of the road but no Killian inside it. First though, she needed to tell Henry she was leaving and before she could even take a step towards the break room, she spied her son rounding the corner.

Sometimes this kid really did have a sixth sense she didn't fully understand.

"Who was that you were talking to? Was it Killian?" he asked as he approached.

"No, it was David. I have to head out to investigate something that just came up. He's coming here to help man the office until either Killian or I get back."

"Must be something pretty serious for you to go out again in this weather…"

"I honestly don't know yet," she answered, trying to be as vague as possible so the boy wouldn't worry. "That's why I'm going to go check it out. Just stay here and stay inside, even if the rain lets up."

"The only place I'd even think about going right now would be Granny's. I'm getting pretty hungry and at least she could throw together a sandwich…"

"You can raid my snack drawer," she chuckled. "I'm not going to worry about you spoiling your dinner tonight."

"Okay! Good luck with your investigation."

"Thanks, kid. I've got a feeling I'm going to need it…" she lamented as she gave a slight flick of her wrist and vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

* * *

Brow knitted in a blend of confusion and apprehension, she approached the vehicle with caution. It might be the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a thunderstorm, but this was still Storybrooke. She'd learned the hard way that anything could happen here at any time so a Savior-Sheriff had to be prepared. While she didn't see anything out of the ordinary through the rear window, aside from the fact there were no visible heads above the seats, she wasn't going to rush.

"Killian?" she called out as she inched towards the car, sloshing through puddles that were soaking through her boots. _If she'd come all the way out here to find him curled up sleeping in the back seat of the cruiser…_

Only she found the back seat empty once she finally had a view through the side window and the front seat was unoccupied as well. A quick glance through the driver's side window revealed the keys in the ignition as expected but it also appeared that the dash camera had been turned on. _So, this was a traffic stop? Then where in the hell was her husband?_

Her first instinct was to yank open the driver's side door and climb inside but her instincts led her to take a moment and do a precursory inspection of the scene first. While the rain would have washed away any tire tracks or footprints, her gut told her that there might be other clues and it didn't take long for her to locate the first one when the toe of her boot kicked something out of a puddle next to the front tire.

Something that looked strangely like a cell phone.

She discarded the currently useless umbrella as she stooped to retrieve the phone and winced as she sliced open the pad of her thumb on a sliver of shattered glass. She wasn't surprised to find that the device was dead, which could have resulted from it hitting the ground, but the damage was definitely hastened by the rain. _Killian must have dropped it. That's why he wasn't answering the calls_. It just didn't explain his disappearance.

Placing the useless phone onto the hood of the cruiser, she continued her survey of the area and walked around to the front of the car. She noted that the passenger side tire was flat which provided another small clue. Trying to change a flat tire during a thunderstorm with one hand and a hook wouldn't have been a safe thing to do, but this small fact raised as many questions as it answered. She lifted her head and stared out at the expanse of dense forest that extended for miles on either side of the highway although she couldn't imagine that Killian would have been crazy enough to venture out there in this weather, even if it was in pursuit of a suspect.

_No, there had to be some other explanation. Some important piece of this puzzle was missing_ , she thought as she tugged open the passenger side door of the car and flopped onto the seat, thankful to be out of the rain for even just a little while. Her eyes immediately went to the dashcam that, from outside of the car, had appeared to be recording. Up close, she could see that the _Recording_ light was indeed illuminated although the LED display screen had turned off. She'd only had these things installed in the cruiser and in the Bug a few months ago so she wasn't entirely sure if the screen was in standby mode or if it was malfunctioning, but she was thankful that at least Killian had remembered to turn the thing on.

She fumbled with different buttons surrounding the screen for a few tense moments trying to figure out how to make it stop recording and switch to playback. She really should have read the whole manual when she put these in... There wasn't time to hunt through it right now but somehow, she managed to get it working. As the screen lit up, the grainy, black and white display showed that there was two hours and sixteen minutes of footage, a lot more elapsed time than a traffic stop should have taken. It was also right about the time that the storm front would have reached Storybrooke.

An eerie sense of dread washed over her as she pressed the _Play_ button and the digital replay opened to a view of a parked, dark-colored sedan. She'd have to see the footage on a bigger screen to make out more of the detail but it appeared to be a Toyota. She was just happy that she could make out the digits in the license plate even if she'd have to take a guess on the state. It definitely wasn't a Maine or Massachusetts tag. She'd be able to recognize either of those but hazarding a guess, she thought it was probably New Hampshire.

There was no sound to accompany the video so there was no way for her to know exactly what was being said as she watched the image of Killian walking casually up to the driver's window of the stopped sedan. She could see that there was a short conversation before Killian took a step backward and then suddenly staggered out of the camera's view. Emma's breath hitched in her throat as a man appeared at the passenger side of the dark sedan, climbing into the vehicle just before its engine started up, the driver leaned out of the window, brandishing what looked like a gun for a few seconds, and then the car peeled away and disappeared down the lonely highway.

_What the hell did I just watch?_ The feed was too blurry for her to get a good view of the driver and she had only a few fleeting glimpses of the other suspect's profile. Had they shot out the front tire? It seemed pretty likely but what had caused Killian to fall out of the frame? Why hadn't he called this in?

_Had they shot him?_

She fast-forwarded the footage a few minutes ahead to see an image of Killian stumbling awkwardly back toward the cruiser and then slumping against the front end. His dark clothing may have obscured any overt signs of injury but the distressed expression on his face revealed all she needed to know. He was hurt and she had no way of knowing how severely based on the video.

He slid out of the camera's range again and she continued to press the fast-forward button until she saw his hook catch onto the void between the hood and the frame and his face appeared in front of the camera. He looked unsteady on his feet, his features scrunched in agony. At one point, he looked directly into the camera, eyes pleading for help that wasn't coming. And then he pushed himself away from the car and staggered out of the camera's line of sight again. She forwarded all the way to the end of the feed and he didn't reappear.

"Oh, god, Killian… Where are you?" she asked aloud, not that she expected anyone to hear her.

_He had to have been shot. It was the only thing that made any sense, but everything had happened so fast... Why hadn't he called for help? Had he broken his phone during the altercation or had he dropped it later because his hand was too shaky? Why didn't he get in the car and use the radio? Even if he hadn't reached her at the station, he could have contacted the State Police over the emergency channel. Had he not remembered how to do it or which channel he was supposed to use?_ She couldn't even imagine what must have been going through his mind but if it was anything like the panic she was experiencing just watching this on replay, she wasn't even sure if she could recall which channel was the emergency one.

She grabbed the radio's microphone from its cradle and depressed the button on the side, hoping that her dad had arrived at the Sheriff station by now. She was going to need his assistance.

"David, are you there? Over." She released the button and waited impatiently for his response.

"Emma - I'm here," he replied after a few short seconds. "Did you find anything out there? Over."

"The cruiser, yes. Killian - no." Her response was blunt and she allowed enough of a pause for David to know she was done with the formal radio etiquette.

"Damn…" was the first response she heard before David realized he'd pushed down on the button too soon. "Any indication of what happened?"

"Thankfully, Killian remembered to turn on the dashcam. He made a traffic stop and apparently, there was an altercation. I'm going to need you to call the State Police and see if they can run a plate for us while our systems are down."

"Sure. Just give me the tag number. And just what do you mean by _altercation_?"

She dodged his question and provided just the necessary facts. "Vehicle is a dark sedan, likely a recent-model Toyota. Plate is New Hampshire, I think. J73 422."

David knew instinctively that something must be wrong for her to avoid his question but he didn't press her for it. "Got it. Should we have them put out an All Points for the car? If so, what reason are we giving them?"

"Possible officer-involved shooting," she replied as matter-of-factly as her current state of mind would allow. She could picture the look on her father's face right now though as he processed her statement.

"Can you _repeat_ that?" his voice begged over the tinny radio speaker.

"It looks like the driver may have shot Killian but I can't verify that until I find him, and that's what I need to do… Have them put out an APB for the vehicle which was occupied by two men. Unfortunately, I don't have a better description. The dashcam video screen is just too small and too fuzzy."

"Will do, Emma. Where do you think he went? There's a lot of forest out there…"

"But there's only one farmhouse. I think he would have headed towards Zelena's place."

"It's not very far but why would he leave the cruiser behind and go on foot if he'd been shot?"

"The suspects shot out the front tire. His phone's shattered and I have no idea why he didn't try to radio for help. I just know that he'd try his damnedest to reach the closest place he thought he could get help."

"I'll put the call in to the State Police. You go find your husband and Henry and I will man the fort here. Your mother sent a three course meal and a thermos of hot cocoa with cinnamon with me so we're well provisioned until we know what's going on."

"Thanks," she replied, managing a weak smile as she replaced the microphone into the cradle on the side of the radio and reached over to turn off the cruiser's engine. She slipped the keys into her pocket figuring she'd worry about retrieving the vehicle later. She didn't need a car to reach the former Wicked Witch's farmhouse.


End file.
